Learning to Fall
by Sketchy Cannabis
Summary: Draco loses his memory from a spell gone wrong, and has to stay with Hermione. The big question is, what happens when, and if, he gets his memory back?
1. Chapter 1

01/01/09 – Learning to Fall

Pairing: Hermione / Draco

Rating: M

Summary: Draco loses his memory from a spell gone wrong, and has to stay with Hermione. The big question is, what happens when, and if, he gets his memory back?

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Chapter One**

"He can't stay with me!" Hermione's voice raised an octave at Ginny Weasley's announcement. Ginny merely glared at her in return, seeming to absently put her hand on Harry's arm for reassurance.

"Yes he can, and he will." Ginny's glare was determined. Hermione sighed, pacing in a circle as she raised her hands in the air. Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood, and Blaise Zabini looked on as she paced.

"It really is for the best, Hermione." Ron's even tempered statement made Hermione growl in response as she paused, wrapping her arms around herself.

"Why do I get stuck with him? We hated each other, I'm sure not much will have changed, no matter how fantastic of a wizard he thinks he is…" Her tirade eventually wound down into grumbles as she peered into the other room. Seemingly oblivious to the conflict going on, was Draco Malfoy. "Stupid ferret," Hermione mumbled under her breath as Blaise watched her with interest.

"He doesn't remember _anything_ Hermione. Grudges, names, history – nothing. If a Malfoy can't remember his own cocky ego, you can be sure that his memory is bloody well wiped clean." Harry cracked a small smile at Blaise's words, while Ron managed a small chuckle.

Neville finally spoke up, seeming to come out from the shadows that he'd managed to fade into during the conversation. "Until we can figure out how to reverse it, he'll have to stay somewhere safe… and that's with you, in Muggle London."

"But I should be working on reversing the hex, not babysitting!" Hermione's eyes flashed as she put her hands on her hips, looking over the group with a frown as they remained silent. Exhaling harshly in aggravation, Hermione bit her bottom lip. "Fine, he stays with me. But I want daily, and I do mean daily Ron Weasley, updates on how breaking the hex is coming." Her glare silenced even Ron's minor protests as he seemed to cower a bit behind Luna.

Luna smiled serenely at Hermione, "When a Snorkle-Sneak-Snacker steals a person's memory, it's best just to wait. He'll remember eventually all on his own." Luna patted Hermione's arm as Ron pulled her away hastily, seeing the flush in Hermione's cheeks and knowing the warning signs by heart.

As the group filed away from Hermione's house, she sat down with a flop onto the recliner in her living room. Crookshanks, still not sure about the man in the other room, sat in her lap, starting up his rusty purr. "We're getting mighty old for this, aren't we, Crookshanks."

In the years following the death of Voldemort, the Order had been putting down little uprisings from other followers. In no way had it compared to the old days of the wars; there were few casualties, and overall, it wasn't a bad thing from day to day.

Of course, it'd all gone wrong when Malfoy – the amazing bouncing ferret – managed to get his own memory charm rebounded right back at him. If only he wasn't such a curst good wizard, Hermione thought. If he wasn't good at his memory charms to begin with, it would've worn off naturally by now. But it'd been almost six hours, and there was no sign of improvement. She pet Crookshanks automatically, her eyes closing for a brief second. When she opened them two seconds later, she about flew out of her chair in surprise.

A pair of very obviously worried slate coloured eyes were staring right at her, much too close for comfort. Straightening her posture, Hermione glared at Draco as best she could. "I'm sure having your memory wiped didn't deplete your knowledge of personal space, Malfoy."

Draco pulled back from her, frowning. Tendrils of his pale blonde hair wisped from behind his ears as he finally spoke up. "So is my name Malfoy or Draco? You all kept switching between them so quickly…" his voice trailed off as he saw Hermione's lips pull into a line.

"Draco Malfoy. That's your name."

"Did I go by Malfoy?" Draco had perched on the edge of the loveseat, one hand working at the other nervously. He was still wearing his impeccably tailored pants and shirt, looking entirely out of place in Hermione's slightly messy living room. Books seemed to be all over the area, some with bookmarks stuck in them, others open with notepads tossed on them, and others in precarious stacks that seemed to stay up only by the use of magic.

"Sometimes," she replied as she stood, pushing Crookshanks off her lap.

"Why only sometimes?" When Hermione didn't reply, Draco frowned more. "Did I break your heart?" Hermione merely turned at his question, peering over her shoulder at him with an inquisitive look as she paused in the shuffling of her books. "It's just, you… treat me like I've hurt you before."

"You never got close enough to break my heart, Malfoy," she replied quietly as she straightened. Having found the book she was searching for, she peered at the cover, before setting the book in Draco's hands. His eyes watched her curiously as she walked to the kitchen, commenting to him, "Start at page 89."

Draco looked closer at the book in his hands. "You-Know-Who… Or Do you? The complete story of Voldemort's Downfall, by Rita Skeeter." Flipping the pages, he came to page 89 and was greeted by a picture of himself. Scanning the text, Draco took in bits and pieces.

_Draco Malfoy, 23 at time of printing, only child of Lucius Malfoy… Sorted into Slytherin house at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry… Turned double-agent shortly after Dumbledore's death… remains close friends with Blaise Zabini… Pansy Parkinson…confirmed bachelor, though often seen with many women on his arm…_

Draco frowned at his smirking photo, who would wink now and then. His hair was shorter in the picture, barely touching his ears. He touched a piece of his hair as he looked at himself for a second more. Maybe he just hadn't gotten it cut yet. Turning the pages, he flipped through it more until he came to a new chapter.

_Hermione Granger, 22 at time of printing, a muggle born witch well known for her intelligence and booksmarts… often called the Golden Trio when paired with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter… was the 'brains' behind the downfall of Voldemort, helping decipher clues and destroy the horcruxes… lives in muggle London and keeps in touch with her best friends, Harry Potter, Ginny Potter, and Ron Weasley…_

Hermione's picture was smiling shyly at the camera, her hair a little frizzier than it was now. She looked older now, Draco noted, as his finger traced the outline of her chin slowly. "How old is this book?"

Amid clattering from the kitchen, he could just hear Hermione's reply. "About four years or so." She came out with tea, setting it down on two towers of books that were about even. As she took her own cup, Hermione leaned back into the recliner again, Crookshanks reclaiming his seat on her lap as Draco set the book down.

"So I'm 27?" Hermione nodded at Draco's question. "Am I married? Do I have a girlfriend? Where do I work? Why aren't you my girlfriend? Am I gay?"

Hermione cracked a small smile at the flood of questions, taking a drink of tea before setting the cup down, stroking Crookshanks head and scratching at his ear. "No, I have no idea, at the Ministry of Magic with Blaise Zabini, because you're a snarky prat and we never got along, and you could be. I guess." It felt strange to have to explain to Draco that they'd never gotten along; their mutual dislike had been embedded for so long that it seemed almost… asinine to point it out now.

Draco seemed to take her answers easily enough, and he took a cup of tea from the platter. "So I guess I'm staying here with you." It wasn't a question, but as it was, Draco was having problems figuring things out. Nothing seemed stable in his world anymore; he'd only relearned his name a bit ago, and it seemed that everything else was crumbling around him. He worked with the Ministry of Magic… were they important? Would he be missed? Could he even do his job now? How would he survive? Questions that Draco didn't really want the answers to swarmed his mind as he focused back on Hermione.

"Yes. Considering the circumstances, we" (there was a slight sneer to the word) "have decided that it would be best for you to stay here until we can reverse the hex."

"Does this happen to people often?" Draco set the cup down.

"Not that I've seen. Something to do with the way that the man you were hexing pulled up his shield… usually the particular curse that you used wouldn't rebound; it would just be absorbed by the shield. Which makes it harder to reverse, for the time being." At his worried look, Hermione shrugged, trying not to disrupt Crookshanks who was now happily purring on her lap. "It shouldn't take too long. There'll be a good many people working on it, and Blaise is nearly a genius when it comes to fixing things like this."

"What happened to the man I was cursing?" Draco's eyes, strangely filled with emotions Hermione could easily read, were on her again.

"I stunned him shortly after Ginny broke his shield. He seems to have no adverse affects from his run in with you."

Draco frowned a bit. "Why was I stunning him?"

Hermione sighed, standing slowly as she cradled Crookshanks in her arms. "Read that book. It'll explain." She called over her shoulder, "Second door on the left is where you can sleep. I'm going to bed. Eat what you want, and such… the loo is first door on the left."

And with that, she shut the door. Draco sighed, grabbed his cup of tea, and snuggled down into the chair Hermione had been occupying earlier. "Page one, it is…" he murmured softly to himself as he flipped to the beginning.

* * *

A/N: Here's my new Draco/Hermione fic. If you know where I loosely got the plot line for this (very loosely), then you get major cookie bonus points. Uhhm, yeah. Working on this story and Paper Faces (which has been dead for over a year, and is now slowly coming back to life as I continue to write on it). Enjoy~


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

**Chapter Two**

Life settled into an easy pattern over the next few days. With no progress made on the curse, Hermione had to learn to live with Draco for a while at least.

They usually ate breakfast together, a rather silent affair as neither was really a morning person. Then Hermione would run any errands she had. Sometimes Draco would come along, but usually he opted to stay home with Crookshanks. The cat had warmed up to Draco uncannily, seeming at times to prefer Draco's lap over Hermione, which had left her disgruntled for an evening or two. After errands, Hermione would come home and read, or pretend to clean.

Draco enjoyed watching her clean. He would sit on the couch and watch as she rearranged books. She'd start by going through a random stack, trying to find places on her already over-stuffed bookshelves for them. Then she'd get side-tracked, reading some notes that she had, or going over the last few pages she'd read. Following that, she'd need to find another book to cross-reference, and she'd be off. After a while, she'd figure out that she was supposed to be cleaning, and she'd smile a little sheepishly at Draco as she picked up the books she'd taken down to check for references.

Unhooking Crookshanks claw from his new sweater, Draco surveyed the room. Earlier, Hermione had managed to move two piles over to the other side of the living room, and now the coffee table was mostly clear, except for his little stack of books that he kept on the end. After each of his questions, he would receive a book or two from Hermione as an answer. It seemed that she lived in books, at times, and Draco was curious as to how she kept her realities separate with all those words in her head.

Hermione had gone out earlier and fetched some of his clothing, and Draco had the feeling she had been intimidated by the trip. She'd given his clothing to him with a glare, and sulked off to her room to read for a few hours before emerging in a mostly civil mood. Honestly, he'd been content with the clothing the Order had brought him the day after his accident. It fit him, was warm, and worked for his purposes.

The clothing Hermione had gotten from his house was expensive, tailored, and Crookshanks absolutely adored his silk shirts. And other silk items that he really preferred the cat not to lay all over. His hair was everywhere, it seemed.

The Order had had a meeting, and Draco was anxious for Hermione to get home. He craved socialization like crazy. Not to mention, he'd actually made dinner. For some reason, Hermione had laughed at him when he'd proposed it. But after three nights of burnt food because Hermione got distracted while cooking, Draco had naturally offered to make something.

He'd found a decent chicken recipe while pawing through her cookbook, and Hermione had explained the basics to him. Measurements, how to use the stove, and other such things. It had been an adventure, to say the least, but him and Crookshanks had enjoyed the portion that they'd had earlier, and he was anxious to have Hermione try it. He wasn't really a good judge of food, anyhow.

Hermione was late. Not just a little, because it wasn't uncommon for her to come back a little later than he expected. But she was almost an hour later. Petting Crookshanks as he tried to remain mostly calm, he nearly jumped out of his seat when she finally came in the floo.

She was tired. That much was obvious. "Still no luck on reversing your situation," she mumbled as she took off her jacket and scarf. It was a little chilly outside. Hermione paused to look him over once while she folded her jacket and scarf. Draco was wearing the dark blue sweater she'd picked up for him when he hadn't had clothes, and jeans. His eyes were bright, and focused on her. Worried, too. She frowned. Her traitorous cat was on his lap, one eye cracked at her as she glared at him. Dumb animal, she thought to herself as she turned to the kitchen. "Did you make that chicken dish?"

"Yes. It's in the fridge." Draco placed Crookshanks carefully on the couch as he stood, moving to stand in the doorway as he watched Hermione heat up some of the food.

"Smells divine." She was glad she got to come home to a flat that wasn't burned to the ground by Draco's cooking adventures. She'd been a little worried about it at first, but then she decided the worst he could do was burn the actual food, as she'd placed enough anti-fire charms to last a lifetime.

Draco smiled at her, his eyes crinkling a bit as he nodded. "Doesn't taste too bad, either."

Hermione shot him a comfortable smile as she sat at the table. "Good, I'm starved." She barely uttered anything after that as she seemed to inhale the food. Draco leaned against the doorway frame with that same small smile on his lips as he watched her.

"That had to be a record of some sort."

"It's amazing how much taste food actually has if it isn't burnt to the core," Hermione commented idly as she rinsed her plate. She turned to face him, grinning. Draco gave a small chuckle as he started back to the living room, taking his usual seat on the couch, waiting for Hermione to take her chair. Crookshanks had relocated to the rug in front of the fire, stretched out on his side with the tip of his tail flipping lazily from side to side.

Instead, she surprised him, taking the seat next to him. Draco raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything. "So what'd you read today?"

Draco gestured to the small pile of books, "A few of your favorites, I'm guessing, by how much they're worn." He pointed to a few. "Hogwarts, A History. Goblin Wars: Fact vs. Fiction. The Evolution of House Elves in the Wizarding World."

"Man after my own heart," she commented as she picked up her Hogwarts, A History. Tracing a finger down the spine of the book, she smiled at him. "This was the first book my parents bought me out of Diagon Alley. My introduction to the Wizarding world."

"It's got a lot of information in it. I imagine Hogwarts is a wonderful place."

"Oh yes. Lots of memories at that school…" her voice trailed off as she remembered who she was talking to, and exactly what the circumstances were. "Well, you'll remember them soon, anyhow."

As she handed the book back to Draco, he placed his hand over hers. "So we weren't friends," he murmured. Letting the book lay in his lap, he held her hand in his as he traced his long fingers over her palm lightly. "Were we enemies?"

Hermione watched her hand, keeping her eyes on his fingers and her hand as she shrugged, a slight flush rising on her cheeks. "I guess." She swallowed hard, feeling her pulse speeding up a little. It was hard to keep in mind that this was Malfoy; the boy in school who had taunted her incessantly, who had made fun of her in every way possible, who had changed his alliances so late in the game… But it was Draco who had discussed some of her best friends with her each night. How Oswald the Onery had taken on giants, and ended up marrying one, how Nolan the Noble had fought in the Goblin wars only to be betrayed by the man he'd loved… Draco, who greeted her with a smile, who looked forward to her company, who filled her stomach with butterflies when his gaze rested on her for too long.

"And we never dated."

"No," Hermione replied softly. His hand was pushing her sleeve up, letting his fingers trail up her wrist as his other hand cradled hers. Hermione had never thought of her hand as an erogenous zone, but with the way her breathing was stuttering, she was sure she should add it to her book.

"You dated Ron."

"Yes." And it hadn't lasted very long, she added mentally. Her and Ron had wanted different things out of life, that much had been obvious. He was successful in the ways he cared about, and she was in her own ways.

"I must've been the dumbest wizard in school to not have asked you out, then." He quirked a smile up at her, his eyes seeming to pale in contrast to his sweater.

Hermione swallowed hard. "Not dumb. Harry or Ron would've killed you for even thinking such a thing."

"What a shame," he muttered, letting her hand drop from his. His eyes were glittering in the firelight, his lips pulled into a small smile.

Hermione cleared her throat. "I think I'm going to go shower now." It sounded bad, she knew, but she had to escape. His touch had stirred feelings in her that she'd kept suppressed for a while now, and she really wanted to keep them that way.

In the shower, Hermione scrubbed and scrubbed her wrist, but she couldn't get rid of the feeling of his cool hands, his slightly rough finger tips and his smooth palm. Leaning against the shower wall, she closed her eyes. He would get his memory back soon, and he'd be gone. It'd be back to them hating each other. No more discussing their reading or opinions, or making tea and staying up late to argue over house elves or the latest law passed…

Later in bed though, after an awkward good night, she found that the name 'Draco' brought a rather silly smile to her face as she drifted off.

* * *

A/N: Chapter two, since chapter one really wasn't much... umph. Does that make sense? Hah. So here's some plot. The next chapter is fun, and about half written. You guys should get it within a week, at most. I'll try to write faster. XD I like to have a buffer chapter in reserve so if life gets complicated I still have something for you all... anyhow! Enjoy!


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